Moby Dick's Bong
by boscoslut
Summary: Starts from Simon Says. Dean's hurt, they are being chased and Sam's having freaky visions. Mostly Dean angst.
1. Chapter 1

This is a crack tag to Simon Said. Dean kept Moby Dick's Bong and yes, Jo is a ho. You will think I was smoking the bong after this one. Lots of Dean angst. Why? I wouldn't have it any other way.

"That offer is still open," Ellen said to Sam as she ran the rag across the surface of the bar, motioning with her free hand behind her. "There are fresh sheets on the cots and I can have Jo rustle you up a few blankets." She eyed a very exhausted looking Sam up.

Sam sat slouched at a bar stool, his elbows propped up on the bar, one hand extending up to support the weight of his head. He leaned up and rubbed at his half closed eyes, wishing like hell the throbbing in his head would seize. The visions were no doubtfully taking their toll on the young man.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, "I appreciate the offer, Ellen, but I'm sure Dean would rather head back to the motel in town." He squinted a few times looking around the smoky roadhouse for said brother.

"I really do insist," the pushy older woman replied, "you look like you'd fall asleep at the wheel anyway and I've served Dean far too many whiskey shots tonight to allow him to drive out of here."

Sam weakly smiled at her. "Yeah, okay, well thanks for the offer. I'm just going to leave it up to Dean." He looked around again, "Speaking of Dean, have you seen him?"

Ellen smiled at Sam, "I think he's in back with Ash."

Sam looked at her a bit surprised. Was Dean bonding with Ash? He had done nothing but crack fun at the mullet haired hippie. Perhaps all that whiskey running through Dean's system had him bonding with _Dr. Bad Ass_...

"You know what, maybe I will take you up on that offer," Sam lazily stood from the bar and stretched his tired muscles.

"Good," Ellen was pleased. "Just head straight back, it's the last door on the right. I cook a mean breakfast."

"Appreciate it," Sam nodded at her, picking up his glass he finished off the rest of the beer he had been nursing the past hour, setting the glass back down he reached for his back pocket.

"Your money is no good here," Ellen smiled at him. "Get some rest, Sam."

He nodded at her again with thanks and headed for the back room. Sleep sounded oh so good. He would sleep for 24 hours straight if no one interrupted him.

As he walked down the narrow hallway towards the back room, he could already hear his brother's big mouth. He could already tell by the way Dean was talking he was buzzing high on the booze. "Freaking great," he mumbled, "so much for a good peaceful night's rest." He noted the last door in the hallway was only two down from Ash's room and wondered how long his brother would be carrying on tonight. He stopped at the door when a funny smell hit his nostrils. He took a few big whiffs then looked down at the steady stream of smoke coming from the crack at the bottom of the door. "Is that?"

"Come on, man, I wanna suck on Moby's Dick again," he heard Ash say, Dean's hysterical laughter following after.

"What the hell?" He pounded a few times on the door.

"Oh shit man, Ellen will kick my ass if she knows I'm smoking back here," Ash whispered, not so quietly. "Here man, you gotta hide it!"

Dean began laughing hysterically again. "Hide it where? In my pants? You know how hard it was to get that thing in here?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief. He pounded on the door again, this time as hard as he could. "Dean? Are you in there?"

Like he didn't already know.

"Um... no, no I'm not," Dean replied back, snorting out loud.

"Dean, open the door, damn it," he said, feeling anger rise in him. He twisted the knob to find it was unlocked and helped himself, opening the door wide. "Dean? What the hell are you doing?" Sam looked at his brother in astonishment. Dean was sitting on Ash's floor with a big glass bong between his legs, the biggest most shit eating grin he'd ever seen Dean wear plastered across his face.

"Hey Sammmmy," Dean slurred. He didn't even try to hide what he was doing.

"Dean," Sam pointed his casted hand at his brother, "is that Andy's bong? You STOLE Andy's bong?" Sam was at loss for words. Not to mention Dean was smoking something toxic out of it!

"No, dude, it's Moby Dick's bong," Dean laughed, lighting up the bong again.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DEAN?"

Dean held his finger out motioning just a minute, holding in the smoke for a few moments he then released, a gravely cough following. "That shit burns," Dean choked on the strong thick smoke.

"DEAN!"

"He stole my baby, Sam, it's only right!"

"You know what, forget that you STOLE the bong, I can't believe YOU are smoking weed," Sam accused. "I know what this is!"

Dean rolled his blood shot eyes. "Oh God, here we go again."

"I know you are upset about dad's death. Don't think I haven't noticed you hitting the bottle pretty hard lately, now you are doing drugs? Dean this isn't going to bring dad back! This isn't going to help matters!"

Dean smirked at Sam as he passed Moby Dick's bong back to Ash.

"Oh this isn't just weed. This shit is laced," Ash laughed, taking a big hit off the bong, the cherry still a fire from Dean's inhale. "Couple more hits of this Dean may just see John, hell he'll be floating high in the clouds with Jesus himself," Ash laughed.

Oddly, Dean laughed at the comment... hysterically.

"That shit isn't funny!" Sam growled at Ash giving his brother a dirty look.

"Sorry," Ash said cooly, "I'm a bit wasted."

Dean's laughter instantly seized, "Oh come Sam, don't go after school spezal on me."

"Whatever, Dean, I'm so pissed off at you right now, I can't even hear you!"

"Sammy..." Dean said, attempting to stand up he swayed a bit. "Whoa... that shit hits hard and fast."

"This is your first time, man? Shit I didn't know... you really should never mix with alcohol, gets you good!" Ash said with sympathy.

Dean's vision started to double, then triple, two Sams, three Sams, four Sams... back down to three...

"Sammmm?"

"Save it Dean! You will get no sympathy from me. Give me your car keys!" He demanded, holding his good hand out.

"Sam I..."

"You are such a freaking jerk, you know that?" Sam advanced on him, leaning down he helped himself to Dean's jacket pocket, Dean not even protesting he held his hands up in surrender, stumbling back a couple steps.

"Chill out buzzkill," Dean said, a look of puzzlement on his face, or was that a look of guilt?

"You chill out, Dean!" Sam yelled, retrieving the keys he tucked them away into his own pocket. "I'm passing out on one of the cots in the back room... if you don't mind toning it down a little, I could use a good night's rest!"

"Ohhhhhh Kkkkkkkk," Dean replied, closing his eyes at the wave of nausea that now hit him like a truck.

Sam slammed the door on his way out, knocking Ash's Dr. Bad Ass sign off the door. He didn't care. He was super pissed off now and doubted he would be able to sleep. He entered the back room, the light already on, noting there were already neatly folded blankets on the end of each cot. He slammed the door closed with his foot, ripping his coat off in frustration, he tossed it carelessly to the floor, eased down on the nearest cot he began to one by one remove his shoes.

That's when it hit him... another vision. "Not... again," Sam hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose he began to moan in pain.

_Jo bent over a keg of beer in the roadhouse storage room. Jo taking it up the ass by a well built, hick looking truck driver. His pants down to his ankles... pumping hard and fast._

_"You know I'm charging you an extra $5.00 for this, right?" Jo said in her whiny voice._

_"Yeah, sure bitch, just say it, I'm about ready to release... come on bitch, say it!"_

_"Oh Daddy... you are so big! Yes... yes yes..."_

_The man cried out in orgasm._

Sam's eyes shot wide open, the vision halting.

"Damn... Dean should probably know that Jo is a Ho," he whispered, shaking his head with major disgust. It was no secret Sam didn't like the girl. He only had death visions though... what an odd vision. Or perhaps he had a contact buzz from his annoying older brother.

"I'd warn Dean if he wasn't a freaking jerk," he mumbled, standing he stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, took two steps over to the light switch and turned it off.

He stretched out on the squeaky cot finding a comfortable position. All the noise seemed to drowned out and he had just drifted into sleep when the door flew wide open. "Sam? You in here?" Dean stumbled into the small room, not bothering to turn on the light. Sam could hear him slam into the wall a few times, mumbling _sonuvoabitch_ a couple times along with some other slurred garble.

Sam let out a huff of frustration. "DEAN! I'm not in the mood! Can't you find some other room to sleep it off?"

Dean swayed towards the voice, catching his foot on the leg of Sam's cot, he found himself falling forward, tipping the entire cot over both Winchester men found themselves on the hardwood floor.

Sam felt his body land on top of Dean's twisted arm, even heard a slight _snap_. Dean didn't cry out in pain. Perhaps he was too high and drunk for it to register.

"DEAN!"

"Sorry... don't feel good..." Dean tried a couple times to get off his brother, finally Sam pushed him back and off of him. Dean fell back on his ass with a grunt.

"I'm not dealing with your crap tonight, Dean. Go sleep it off in your car," the younger man ordered.

"Sammm... cold out..." Dean complained, staggering back up.

"GOOD! Maybe you'll sober up a little!" Sam stood, paced back over to the door and flipped the switch back on. He looked at his brother for one second then turned his head to the side. His brother looked way too pale. Hopefully he'd make it outside before he blew chunks. Better yet, hopefully he'd blow them in his precious car. It would serve him right.

"Sammmm?"

"OUT!"

Dean could hardly think straight. His world was spinning on him hard and fast. He didn't even know what he did to anger Sam. "K," was all he could muster, he wasn't in the mood to fight, hell, he just wanted somewhere to rest his head. His baby would do just fine.

He managed to stumble his way down the hall and out the back exit into the cold night.

Fresh air... he needed fresh air...

He stumbled right into the back of an enormous man who was smoking a cigarette. "Watch it you little punk," the man growled, turning to look at Dean.

"Sooorrry," Dean slurred, looking around disoriented. He had never used the back exit and was confused thinking he went out the front. He was scanning the area for his baby. Her leather seats would do him some good about now.

"You," the man growled, "trying to start some shit?" The man dropped his cigarette and stepped on it with his massive boot.

"Me?" Dean looked back at the man, "Nah..."

"Don't think I didn't notice you eyeing up my piece tonight, boy. Anyone ever tell you it's not nice to eye up another man's property?" The man got in Dean's face, pushing him back against the roadhouse door.

"Huh? No..." Dean had no idea what this man was talking about. He did know one thing. He was about to throw up.

"Don't play dumb, it's insulting! I'm talking about Jo... she's my bitch you hear me?" His breath so fowl in Dean's face, he lost it right there. Bending over he threw up all over the man's boots.

"What the? Oh you just sealed your fate tonight, boy," the man stepped back in anger, allowing Dean to fall forward to his hands and knees. He was still heaving when a hard object slammed into the side of his face.

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Dean fell on his side still heaving, swallowing some of his own vomit he began to gag. He was too disoriented to ever even defend himself. The much larger man didn't seem to mind kicking him while he was down.

The assault continued with another violent kick to Dean's face. The force of the kick sent him rolling onto his back where he was then kicked hard in the side. "Dumb prick bitch," the man growled, kicking him in the ribs.

Dean groaned and coughed harshly, this time a little vomit mixed with blood from his busted lip trickled down the side of his mouth. Dirt from the ground was caking to his bleeding and vomit soaked face.

"You'll never come back to this bar again, you hear me?" The man shouted, picking Dean up by the lapels of his jacket he slammed him against the side of the building.

Dean was so out of it he couldn't respond. At this point breathing was a task in itself. His eyes just rolled around glossy, pissing the man off even more.

"Do you hear me?" He screamed again, shaking Dean hard, slamming his head against the wall a few times.

A low moan escaped Dean's lips before his eyes rolled into their sockets, his head falling limp, his body lax.

"I hate pretty boys like you, always catching Jo's attention. She's mine she just doesn't realize it yet," he growled, releasing Dean and side stepping, Dean fell forward, contacting the ground with a thud.

"I see you around here again, I will kill you," the man promised, kicking him once more for added emphasis. Dean's body arched up from the kick then fell lax again.

The man lit up another cigarette, took a few drags while staring down at Dean with disgust, then bent down, extinguishing it on the back of Dean's hand. His flesh sizzled and smoked as it was burnt yet Dean didn't even flinch.

The man smirked when an idea formed in his head. He slowly unzipped, pulled out, and pissed all over Dean. He shook it back and forth, soaking Dean's hair, jacket, and jeans. "Ahhhhhh," the man sighed, zipping it back in he wandered away to his semi truck that was in the roadhouse parking lot.

He'd sleep for a while and get up for Ellen's breakfast before venturing out over the road. He was also going to make sure the pretty boy was gone by morning, or his job wasn't finished yet.

Sam winced in his sleep. He rolled over to his back on the uncomfortable cot, wincing again.

_Ellen behind the counter of the bar, pouring coffee for some regulars. Ellen's worried eyes trailing over to a corner table._

_Jo behind her at the ice machine, dumping excessive amounts of ice cubes into a clean rag, folding it up and hastily walking over to the table._

_Ash standing over the table, the hippie looking pissed off for once. "Who would do this?"_

_"Dean talk to me man," Sam hears his own worried voice._

_Jo walking over to the table, Ash moving out of the way for a clear view of Dean._

_DEAN_

_He's beaten. Bad. Real bad._

_Jo trying to ease the ice over his swollen face._

_Dean hissing and moaning in pain, holding his arm protectively against his soiled leather jacket._

_A strange voice out of view. "I told you to never come back, pretty boy."_

_Jo looks horrified. "You did this?"_

_A gun comes into view._

_"I don't appreciate other men looking at you, bitch!"_

_It fires. Blood sprays the walls of the roadhouse._

_Sam screams, "NOOOOOOOO!"_

Sam instantly woke up, sitting straight up on the cot. He was drenched with sweat and gasping for oxygen. There was a pulsing agony in his head. One that usually accompanies a vision. He wiped the sweat off his face. Was it a vision? Or just a nightmare? He's was so prone to both.

"Dean?" He calls out into the darkness of the room.

No answer.

"Dean you in here?"

Of course he isn't. Sam told him to get out and sleep elsewhere. He would have heard Dean stumble back in wouldn't he? He jumps off the cot and heads over in the direction of the door, finding the light switch he flicks in on. It takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust.

He looks down at his watch that he never bothered to take off. It's now 5:30 am. Concerned for Dean, he quickly grabs his pants and begins to dress. Dean is surely sound asleep in the Impala, but he has to go check. There is no way he can fall asleep again after that nightmare or vision. He's hoping nightmare but the throbbing in his skull and the feeling in his gut is screaming otherwise.

He walks passed Ash's room and hears nothing. The door is now closed, the Dr. Bad Ass sign already rehung to it. He pauses and hesitates on knocking at this time in the morning. Maybe Dean went back to Ash's room and indulged himself with more booze and drugs. He doesn't hear any voices. Maybe Dr. Feel Good and Dr. Bad Ass passed out?

He'll check out the Impala first.

He's trying to be discrete and decides to take the back exit door. This is their first time being guests overnight and he has no idea what time Ellen and Jo wake up.

Jo. Maybe he spent the night with Jo? For Dean's sake, he better not have. For starters, Jo is a Ho. His vision made that pretty damn clear. Also, if Ellen caught Dean with Jo, Dean would surely be dead.

He opens the back door as quietly as possible, wishing like hell he had his jacket on now. The morning air is nippy. He holds the door open with his foot reaching out for a stick with his long arms. He wedges the stick at the bottom of the door, preventing the door from locking him out.

The second he turns around the sick feeling in his stomach spreads all the way up his throat. "Dean?"

His brother is laying face down in the dirt, looking dead to the world. "Oh God, Dean?" He rushes to his side and bends down, the stench of urine and vomit making him want to gag. For one brief second he curses Dean for being a total idiot. His brother got himself so trashed he puked and pissed himself, passing out outside. The feeling is quickly gone when he notices a huge burn mark on Dean's outstretched hand. Dean's outstretched hand attached to his outstretched arm that is at an odd angle, so odd that even through his beloved leather coat it is clearly broken.

He feels like he's going to vomit now. He heard the _snap_ when Dean knocked him off his cot and he fell on his arm. He should have said something then! He shouldn't have over reacted when his _older_ brother decided he wanted to let loose and experiment. He couldn't help it. Dean was all he had and sometimes he just really torked him.

He then notices blood and dirt caked to the side of his head. "Dean? I swear to you, no more after school specials, no more chick flick moments, no more acting like a girl, just be okay?"

The door behind Sam was kicked open loudly, startling him. He stood and turned fast.

"Hey, whatz with all the ruckus out here?" Ash stepped out, naked, holding Moby Dick's bong tightly in his grasp.


	2. Chapter 2

This is a crack fic. Expect odd humor with some angst and nothing more. No offense to Jo or any of the roadhouse characters. Though I'd prefer Jo to not be around, I'm a Supernatural fan for life and this is all in fun. Ash is hilarious. :P

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"Hey, whatz with all the ruckus out here?" Ash stepped out, naked, holding Moby Dick's bong tightly in his grasp.

"Damn Ash, you scared me!" Sam turned back towards his brother, bending back down. "Dean? Can you hear me?"

Ash walked over and stepped around Sam, looking down at Dean. "Is he dead, man?" He eased Moby Dick's bong down on the ground, careful not to break his new prized possession.

Dean had given him the bong as a thank you for his help in their last supernatural adventure. The bowl on the bong was packed tight as if the previous owner was getting ready to smoke it then left it. Ash did a sniff test and being the genius he was, he could already tell what drugs were mixed in it.

Dean's facade about the bong, about hunting, about everything... never gave Dr. Bad Ass Genius a reason to think Dean couldn't handle it.

"Dude, he didn't smoke enough to O-D," Ash announced.

He stood back up and looked down at a worried Sam attempting to roll Dean over. "No, he's breathing, can you give me a hand?"

Sam turned his head and closed his eyes. Ash standing naked in front of him, again, was not what he needed to see. "Do you always walk around here like that?"

Ash smirked and bent down. "No one else seems to mind," he said, putting his hands on Dean's shoulder. "His arm looks pretty screwed, lets roll him towards me on three."

Sam nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"One... two... three," they eased Dean over to his back, taking extra precaution not to agitate his injured arm any further. Dean's head just lolled to the side, a slight moan escaping his throat.

"Dean?" Sam was pretty sure he was going to vomit now. His brother was beat to hell. "Who would do this?" He whispered, taking in the sight before him.

Ash cringed. "I don't know, man, the roadhouse is usually pretty peaceful. It's mostly hunters that stop here and we all have a respect for each other. There are some pretty nasty truck drivers that stop in that like to cause trouble. Usually Ellen manages to keep them under control."

Sam gently turned his brother's head, lightly tapping him on the cheek. "Dean? Can you hear me?" When he received no response, he used his thumb to peel back one of Dean's eye lids. Dean's eye was extremely glossy and red, the pupil dilated.

He nearly jumped when Dean's mouth opened up, a raspy and slurred, "Sammmm," escaping.

"Dean? You are awake? Are you okay?" Sam let a heavy sigh escape his throat he didn't realize he was holding in.

He didn't even know where to start on his brother. His face was swollen with already various shades of black and blue. There was a lot of blood caked to the side of his head and around his mouth and nose, giving off a blackish tint. Just from a glance his arm was the worst of it. No telling what was beneath his clothing.

"Sorrrrry," Dean rasped, his eye lids fluttering as if he was trying to open his eyes.

Sam chuckled, a genuine smiling forming over his lips. "Don't be sorry just yet. I'm so kicking your ass later."

Dean's eyes finally opened. They were heavy and it took most of his energy. "Sorry... disappoint...ed..."

"Don't be," Sam cut him off. "I'm the one that should be making the apology. You going to live long enough for me to kick your ass?" Sam knew any kind of challenging banter would get Dean moving.

"You... could... never...," Dean coughed a bit, "kick, my, a...s...s..."

Sam laughed. "No, I guess I never could. I'm still the taller one though." He rubbed Dean's knee with affection. "Think you can stand?"

Dean looked like he was ready to pass out again. "C...old."

Sam felt guilty all over again for kicking Dean out. This was all his fault.

"Not... your ... fault..." Dean wheezed out, his body starting to shiver. Only Dean could tell what Sam was thinking without even looking at him.

"I'm supposed to be the psychic one too," Sam laughed, "just stay awake, I'm going to patch you up as good as new."

Sam knew Dean had to be freezing. Granted he had his coat on and was fully clothed, he slept on the freezing ground face first, with blood loss. He was shaking himself just from standing out here a few minutes with no coat on. He cradled his arms.

_Ash_. Ash was stark naked. "Dude," he looked up at him. "Aren't you cold?"

Ash semi grinned. "I'm Dr. Bad Ass, bad asses don't get cold."

"Well junior there is saying otherwise," Sam motioned with his head, never looking at what he was motioning at.

Ash grinned again. "Yeah I guess he is."

"Ash, I have to ask you this. I've had a couple weird visions since I've been here. Is Jo..." Sam didn't know how to ask Ash or how he would take it. He barely knew these people.

"Is Jo what? Awake? Want me to get her?"

"No. No that's not it. I don't know how to ask this, so I'm just going to blurt it out."

"Straight up, my kind of man," Ash nodded his head.

"Is she... a ho?" Sam turned his head, feeling totally awkward. If his face wasn't slightly numb from the cold air he would have known he was blushing.

"I think... so," Dean managed to say. "Brat... too..."

Sam looked down at his brother and smiled.

"Not to bite the hand that feeds you, Ellen has been great to me, but yes, why do you think I keep my door locked? I'm only naked because I heard Jo getting it on in the basement last night with one of the truck drivers. I've lived here long enough to know she's good for another 2 days." Ash saw the look of surprise on Sam's face then shrugged his shoulders.

"I just ... wow... I knew it all along. I never liked her. But that vision, wow, this is new," Sam was feeling freakier than usual with his new vision that wasn't of death.

Wait...

_Jo bent over a keg of beer in the roadhouse storage room. Jo taking it up the ass by a well built, hick looking truck driver. His pants down to his ankles... pumping hard and fast._

"_You know I'm charging you an extra $5.00 for this, right?" Jo said in her whiny voice._

"_Yeah, sure bitch, just say it, I'm about ready to release... come on bitch, say it!"_

"_Oh Daddy... you are so big! Yes... yes yes..."_

_The man cried out in orgasm_

Beat...

_Jo looks horrified. "You did this?"_

_A gun comes into view._

"_I don't appreciate other men looking at you, bitch!"_

_It fires. Blood sprays the walls of the roadhouse._

_Sam screams, "NOOOOOOOO!"_

Maybe for some reason his vision split up? Maybe he had a death vision, about his brother? For the _second_ time. Why did Dean always have to come so close to death?

"Hello... dying and freezing down here," Dean said sarcastically. He was clearly more alert now.

"Sorry, Dean, just trying to connect the dots," Sam apologized. "Lets get you warm first," he moved up and around, placing his arms under Dean ready to ease him up. "I know you are sore, this will hurt, but I'm taking you as far as we can from here before I patch you up. You can lay in... your baby... while I get the rest of our things."

"Why?" Dean could tell Sam was scared. He instantly fought back the pains in his body and used what he had in him, every muscle protesting as he did so. With a few grunts and Sam's help, he managed to stand. He swayed a bit but Sam's firm grasp never left him.

"We're not going inside that roadhouse, ever again," Sam announced. _Damn it, he left his keys... Dean's keys... in the back room in his coat pocket._

He looked back to Ash. Could he trust him? He had already picked Moby Dick's bong back up and was inhaling deep.

Another vision hit Sam. This one harder than before. He gasped in pain, letting go of Dean.

Dean stumbled forward and leaned against the roadhouse for support. He instantly cried out at the pain it inflicted on his busted arm. He wasn't ready to fully stand on his own yet. He closed his eyes tight with pain. "Sam?" He rasped, turning to look at his younger brother.

Sam immediately fell to his knees, holding his head in agony.

"SAM!"

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews. I'm trying to toss some Sammy angst in there for you, Chris. You always do it for me. Kiss kiss.

Dean stumbled forward and leaned against the roadhouse for support. He instantly cried out at the pain it inflicted on his busted arm. He wasn't ready to fully stand on his own yet. He closed his eyes tight with pain. "Sam?" He rasped, turning to look at his younger brother.

Sam immediately fell to his knees, holding his head in agony.

"SAM!"

_The Impala coming to a screeching halt. _

_The entire passenger side smashed to oblivion. _

_A semi truck wedged up against it. _

_Glass. So much glass. Everywhere. _

_Sam hears himself coughing. "Dean?" _

_No response. _

_"Dean, can you hear me?" _

_Another voice, "Get out of the car you fag-boy!" The driver side door flies open. Sam sees himself getting yanked out of the Impala roughly by a large hand. He falls to the ground with a grunt. His legs still dangling inside the car. He tries to sit up but a heavy boot meets his chest, pinning his body down. "Please my brother..." _

_"Your brother? You mean your lover? That prick bitch is dead!" _

"Sam, talk to me!" Sam snaps out of it. He's laying flat on the cold ground. He rubs unconsciously at his temples. His eyes come into focus to find a very worried looking Dean bent over him. Dean's hand is on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Sam clears his throat. "Yeah, yeah I think so," he sits up, blinking a few times.

"What was this one about?" Dean shuffles on his feet, wincing out loud. He feels like he needs to lay down next to Sam and take a nice long nap. His entire body is protesting his crouched position. He's pretty sure he's sporting a couple of fractured ribs. They are digging deep inside of him, making breathing from this position extremely difficult.

Sam hesitates. "It was, I don't know. It was like deja vu. A semi plowing into the Impala... only it was different. Dad wasn't there. At least I don't think he was." He rubs his temples again. "These visions are out of control." He looks over to Dean. "I don't know what's going on, man. This is just freaky."

"Freakier than usual?" Dean grunts, attempting to stand back up now that it's confirmed Sam is fine.

Sam is instantly to his feet, helping Dean up.

"I'm alright," Dean whispers in a hoarse tone, his breathing sharp.

"Sure you are. Dean what happened?" Sam's tone is light and filled with concern.

Dean gets a confused look on his face. "I don't really remember." The stench of his own clothing that he now smells makes his stomach churn. He looks down at his blood, vomit, and urine soiled clothing. "Dude, did someone piss on my leather?"

Sam nods his head. "Dean, someone beat the shit out of you. You don't remember pissing somebody off last night?"

Dean scowls. "Why is it every time I get in a fight you automatically assume I started it?"

Sam's lip twitches. "Because usually you do?"

Dean raises an eyebrow. He can't deny that. "Yeah, you got a point there." He starts to shrug out of the jacket, growling as pain flares up his entire arm and down his chest. "Dude, can you give me a hand. I think... I think I broke my arm."

"Yeah sure," Sam gets behind Dean and begins to help him slide off the garment. He takes extra time easing Dean's arm out of the sleeve. He'll tell Dean later that he's partly responsible for the busted wing.

"Sonovabitch!" Dean cries out between clinched teeth.

"Sorry, almost there," Sam sympathizes.

Once the coat is removed, Sam drops it to the ground and begins eyeing up Dean's arm. The bone is broken all right. Dean's forearm is three times the size it normally is. It's various shades of black and darkish blue. "At least the bone didn't pierce the flesh," he says, trying to be positive.

Dean looks down at his busted limb. His eyes trail to the circular burn on the back of his hand. "Someone put a cigarette out on my fucking hand?" He flexes his fingers a few times, his face showing the pain he's in. "Maybe I... hit on the wrong chick last night."

"Is that what happened?" Sam asks, wincing as he eyes up Dean's painful looking arm.

"No. Maybe." Dean shrugs one shoulder lightly. "Sam, I don't remember."

"Dean, I... I had a weird vision last night, at least I think it was a vision," Sam begins.

Dean looks up to him. "And?"

"Two actually," he continues. "One was of Jo, getting it on with some guy in the basement."

"You little perv," Dean quips.

Sam tilts his head and rolls his eyes. "Dean, the other one was of you, beat to shit, sitting in one of the booths in the roadhouse. I think it was the same guy, I don't know, all I could see was his weapon, but the voice sounded the same. Dean he blew your brains out right there." Sam gets a disgusted facial expression at the memory of it.

Dean just stares at him a minute before answering.

Sam can't take the pause. "Will you say something?"

"So that's why you don't want to go back in there? You think you had a vision of me dying in there?"

Sam just nods his head.

"Okay. I sent Ash back inside to gather our things. We don't need to go back in there. Not today anyway."

Sam looks around and now notices Ash isn't there anymore. He looks relieved. "You really mean it?"

Dean nods his head, wincing and swaying a little. Sam quickly holds his lanky arms back out, placing them on Dean's shoulders, steadying him.

"Yeah," Dean rasps, looking suddenly even more pale than before.

The back door opens back up and Ash exits, his arms carrying a duffle bag and Sam's coat. He's now fully dressed. There is a God.

"This everything?" Ash asks as he paces over to the brothers.

"Yeah, thanks a lot man, can you carry it to the car for me?" He looks down at the ground. "Grab Dean's leather for me also. We'll get that dry cleaned later, Dean it will be as good as new." He doesn't wait for a response from Ash. He puts one arm around Dean's waist. "Come on Dean, lets get you in your baby and comfortable. I promise the very next town we'll get you to a hospital and have you looked at."

Dean doesn't protest the help, which worries Sam even more. Not a good sign when Dean Winchester accepts physical help.

Jo suddenly steps out the back door, looking around nosily. "Guys, what are you..." she stops in her tracks at the condition of Dean. "What happened?" She walks over full of concern, calling out for her mom.

"Come on, lets get him inside," she tries to take charge.

"I don't think so, Jo," Sam says coldly as he continues to lead his brother to their ride.

"What do you mean? He needs help," she eyes Dean up as she walks along the side of them. "Dean? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jo," he whispers, concentrating more on putting one foot in front of the other. He's fighting to stay upright and if Sam wasn't helping him, he knows he'd be eating gravel about now. His stomach is one giant knot and is threatening the back of his throat. "Sam, put a blanket down..." he starts to say, a dizzy spell slapping him in the face.

"Don't worry. I will," Sam replies.

They reach the Impala and Sam eases his brother up next to the passenger door. "Can you?"

Dean nods his head. Sam doesn't like the glossy out of it look that has returned to Dean's eyes. He must have a concussion. Dean leans heavy on his baby as Sam takes his possessions from Ash. "Thanks again, Ash. I owe you one."

"No problem, any time," Ash says. "He's pretty hurt, dude, you sure you don't want Ellen to patch him up a little before hitting the road? These back roads are bumpy. It's not going to be a very pleasant ride for him."

"He'll manage," Sam says with confidence. He retrieves Dean's keys from his jacket pocket and hurries to the trunk.

He's back by Dean's side in a second flat with a blanket. The familiar creaking of the Impala's door is heard. "Back seat okay?" Sam doesn't wait for an 'okay'. If that last vision was a premonition of things to come, his brother was NOT going to be sitting in the front seat if another semi was going to plow into it.

Dean didn't even argue. He just crawled gently into the back seat after Sam spread the quilt out over the entire length of the seat. He grunted as he found a semi comfortable position on his back, his injured arm now cradled on top of his chest.

"Watch your legs, dude," Sam says, gently folding them up onto the seat.

Dean's eyes were already closed tight with pain by the time Sam shut the door.

"I don't understand, what's going on?" Jo wined. Far be it from any man to leave her in the dark when she wanted to know something. "Why are you leaving? I can help."

"Some other time, Jo," Sam said flatly, nodding another thanks to Ash. He hastily dumped the rest of their possessions into the trunk, grabbing a pistol before slamming it shut. He checked the clip, making sure it was full, then eased the gun into his waistband. He hurried around the Impala and eased himself into the driver's seat. The Impala rumbled to life and took off, leaving a cloud of dirt and dust.

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In a running semi in the parking lot, Fred held the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were white. He watched the display of events unfold before him, silently brewing. He watched a concerned Jo hold her hands on her hips and look off at the now disappearing classic car.

The way she was looking at the pretty boy, with concern, had his blood boiling. She never looked at him like that. He ran his hand across the scruff on his face, narrowing his eyes. He punched the steering wheel, several times in a fit of rage, spewing out massive obscenities.

He waited a few minutes for Jo and the hippie guy to head back into the roadhouse, shifted his truck in gear, and eased his big rig out of the parking lot. He would not be having Ellen's famous breakfast this morning. He had some unfinished business to take care of.

TBC...

Return to Top


	4. Chapter 4

Ash wasn't kidding when he said the back roads were bumpy. They had traveled the route to the roadhouse on several occasions. Dean never really noticed the bumpy ride, till now.

"Sammm?" His voice was a near whisper.

"Yeah Dean, what is it? You okay?" Sam was ready to stop the Impala.

"Must you... hit... every... bump," Dean moaned softly. So softly Sam had to strain his ears just to hear him.

"I'm so sorry, Dean, I'm actually trying to avoid them," Sam replied.

Sure the hell didn't feel like it. To Dean it felt like Sam was swerving all over the place, making his nauseous stomach even more upset than it was, hitting every damn crevice out of spite.

"K," he croaked, reaching up with his good arm to rub his throat. He was trying his hardest to keep the contents of his stomach down. He knew sooner or later his stomach was going to win this battle. Hopefully later. He spent so much time restoring his baby. After all they had been through together and all the mistreatment she had put up with, he knew she'd never forgive him for this one.

They rode in silence for several minutes. Sam kept his eyes and ears alert, constantly looking around at the scenery around them. In his mind they had escaped his vision of Dean dying at the roadhouse. Dean didn't know it yet, but no way in hell was he ever going back there. Sam wouldn't let him. He would take that raincheck he owed Dean and punch his lights out if he even suggested it.

How was he going to escape the vision of the semi plowing into them? They where on a road _driving_ in the _Impala_ making them a target. The only way to avoid it was to get off the road. That was pretty clear. Having traveled this road, Sam knew there weren't that many stop offs from here to the next town.

There was an old gas station a few miles up that reminded Sam of the Hills Have Eyes. The remake of course. Dean preferred the original. Sam smiled at the memory of their late night argument over which one was better. It was over hot fresh delivered pizza and cold beer in a classier than usual motel. Dean won the 'argument' as usual, or so he thought. Sam finally gave in just to shut his brother up. They had just stopped a native curse from killing again, both getting stung multiple times in the process. Dean had been stung over a dozen more times than he had. Dean as usual pretended the stings didn't phase him, but Sam knew better.

Speaking of Dean...

"Dean, you still with me?" Sam tilted the rearview mirror down as far as it would go. He could still see the rise and fall of Dean's chest, but his face was hidden behind his seat. He had heard Dean moan a few times, slur a few curse words, threaten if he hurt his reconditioned baby he'd be a sorry something, but he was now driving in silence.

"Dean? I'm no doctor but I know a concussion when I see one. You awake?"

_Silence..._

"Dean? I'm official worried about you."

That did the trick. Nothing like motivating your beat to shit older brother by making him think you were worried about him. Worked like a charm every time.

"Phmmmmovmmmm."

"What?" He looked straight at the road, held the wheel tight, then turned his head looking over the seat.

"Pull...over..." Dean was attempting to sit up, his face whiter than any ghost he ever encountered.

"Okay, okay," he replied, turning back around he eased on the brake. He pulled into the tiny shoulder, if you'd call it that, and parked the Impala.

The second Sam opened up the door for him, Dean's head was hanging out, his upset stomach finally winning the battle.

He managed to roll over fast and brace himself with his good arm on the bottom of the door frame. He heaved hard, pure liquid acid forcing way out of his nose and mouth, burning the abrasions surrounding them. His busted ribs grinded into organs from his new position on his belly, no doubt his baby screaming at him to move as the seat probably pushed his entire rib cage in further. His arm holding him from falling trembled by the second heave and Dean found himself falling forward, face first out of the car.

"I gottcha," Sam's voice and touch were so gentle for the giant he was. His hands braced Dean's shoulders, keeping him from falling. He crouched in front of Dean, even allowed some of Dean's stomach contents to splash up on his shoes and pants, without protest. If the tables were turned, Dean knew he would be making some smart ass comment. Not Sam though. Here Sam was, broken wrist in a cast holding him up. Broken wrist that he had made fun of Sam for.

"You are so buying me a new pair of shoes and jeans, this is just nasty, dude," Sam chimed in. "You are such a pussy, I can't wait to tell your next conquest about this."

Dean would have laughed if he wasn't in so much pain. After the heaving seized, Sam helped Dean roll back over to sit on the edge of the seat, wiping his mouth off for him with the corner of the blanket he had laid down earlier.

Dean winced as the vomit was wiped away. He was grateful, but the cuts were stinging. His eyes were full of painful tears.

"You going to be okay?"

"Yeeeummm," he cleared his burning throat. "Yeah, thanks."

"Don't mention it," Sam replied.

"K, I won't."

"Good."

"Thanks."

"Your welcome."

Sam's heart broke watching his brother. His good hand had already trailed back up to his ribs and his eyes were now closed, tears running down his flawless cheeks.

"Listen, Dean. I need to bandage you up. I know you are hurting so lets skip the usual I'm fine bull shit. Something wrong with your ribs?" Sam spoke in his **I'm taking charge** tone. The one that always seemed to work on his stubborn ass brother.

Dean was always impressed when Sam took charge. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking back a few of the uncontrollable tears."Yeah. Busted."

Sam nodded his head. "How many?"

"Two... maybe three," Dean responded.

Sam let out a long exhale. "Okay. Listen, we are about twenty miles from the highway. If my last vision was actually a vision, we are not safe. Anywhere on this road, any road for that matter, is not safe. Anywhere in this car is not safe seeing as I never saw the location we were at in the vision other than being _in the Impala_."

"Sam," Dean looked at him as sternly as he could, "we are **not** leaving my baby here."

"Dean, I wouldn't ask you to do that and I sure the hell ain't carrying your heavy ass across this no man's land," Sam winced. "Excuse me, this puke, piss, old stale booze, this... no offense, this smell and everything..."

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After emptying out the contents of his stomach, Sam got back into the driver's seat.

"Feel better? I can't wait to tell your next conquest about this... oh wait, you never have any," Dean laughed out loud, the laugh turning into a wheezing coughing spell.

"We've wasted enough time, Dean. I'm going to haul ass to that freaky looking gas station a few miles up, park the Impala in back, and patch you up. Then we'll figure out the rest together so you better stay awake for me." Sam floored the Impala, causing Dean to arch back against the seat. He couldn't control the groan that escaped his lips.

"Sorry," Sam looked into the rearview mirror, biting his lip. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I'm just freaked out and I really don't know what to do about this."

"We'll figure it... out," Dean said hissing in pain. "Together."

Sam looked back to the road, determined, eyeing the landscape once again. "Yes we will," he agreed.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Why _that_ gas station? It scares the fuck out of me. Reminds me of The Hills Have Eyes... the remake."

Sam would have laughed... if another vision didn't just creep up on him. "Awwwww!" He took one hand off the steering wheel, grabbing his temples, his eyes clenched closed. "NO! NOT NOW!" He tried to fight it. The Impala began to swerve all over the road, Dean's already sore body tilting...

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

If tonight's episode doesn't motive you to write, nothing will! Long live Supernatural! I'm a happy woman. Thanks for the few reviews. It does motivate me more when I know other people like my crap. :)

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Dean never had time to brace himself. His muscles tensed, sending violent spasms throughout his entire battered body, just before the side of his head collided with the window.

"Sonova..." he groaned, forcing his body to shift back to upright position. "Sam?" He grabbed the back of the driver's seat and pulled himself forward. "SAM?" He tried to shake off his now doubling vision.

Sam didn't respond. He was holding both sides of his head, the Impala veering off towards the left side of the road.

"_Guess there's no body home. I wonder if the pumps work." Sam hears his own voice. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit. You just rest." _

_Dean is sitting on a dirty floor, leaning heavy against an off white, even dirtier looking brick wall_.

_There is blood smeared down the back of the wall next to Dean's head. _

"_I'm not going anywhere," Dean says, his eyes closed. He's clearly in pain. Drops of perspiration cover the pale spots on his face. Most of it is swollen and various shades of black and blue, fresh crimson blood seeping from several dark scabs. His breathing is loud and awkward. _

_Sam hears heavy footsteps, followed by a door slamming shut. _

_The sound of a loud engine begins to grow. Louder and louder. Dean's eyes open up and he weakly calls out. "Sam?" He begins to scramble to his feet, leaning heavy against the wall for support. "Sam?" He's clearly frightened. His hands are shaking uncontrollably. _

_A truck's blaring horn is heard, just before a loud explosion erupts. The ceiling begins to crumble above his head. He places his good arm over it in a feeble attempt to protect himself. "Sam!" _

_Dean's eyes widen in horror just as the front of a semi plows into him, pinning him to the wall. Smashing the life out of him. Blood oozes from his ears, nose and mouth as his head falls limp on the grail of the truck. _

"SAM PLEASE SNAP OUT OF IT!" It takes all of Dean's energy to leap over the seat, successfully grabbing the steering wheel he turns it sharply to the right, crying out in agony from the movement.

Sam can hear shouting. The vision stops leaving him in darkness for a beat. His ears begin to ring and he feels like he's being sucked out of a dark tunnel towards a faint light.

The first thing that registers, besides the splitting ache in his brain, is the movement next to him. Someone or something is pushing heavy on his right shoulder and side. Jumping into defensive mode, he rears his right arm forward and rams his elbow into the assaulter. _Hard._

"ARRGGHHHHHHHHHH!" The elbow connects with Dean's busted ribs, sending him sprawling over the front seat. His face connects roughly with the dashboard before he falls heavy towards his baby's floor. Kuma Sutra doesn't even cover the position he's in now.

Sam's adrenaline kicks in, instantly alerting him. He looks down at his brother. "DEAN!"

The Impala's shocks go into overtime as the wheels run over several large dirt hills sending them airborne. Even with newly installed shocks the landings are relentless on both Winchesters.

Sam focuses up to the road, or at least what used to be the road. The car is heading straight for a cliff. "HOLY SHIT!" Sam grabs the wheel with both hands and turns sharply to the left as he slams on the brakes. The wheels churn and skid at the sudden change of momentum. "SON-OF-A-BITCH!"

The vehicle comes to a sudden halt horizontal to the deadly drop. Chunks of dirt rain down on the hood, windshield and top of the Impala, dinting the flawless beast and cracking her glass like a hail storm of golf balls.

Sam's breathing so hard it sounds like he's hyperventilating. His chest is heaving in and out, his heart beating so fast he's lucky he's not taking a heart attack.

He sits in shock for several minutes, his hands clenching the steering wheel tightly. It takes a low moan from Dean to snap him out of it. He looks down at him, "Jesus, Dean! Are you okay?"

_Are you okay? _Dean's three most hated words. Yet Sam has spit those three loathed words out at least a dozen times in the last few hours. It must be a record breaker.

"Nooo," Dean manages to spit out around a mouthful of floor. Why lie about it any more? He's _not_ okay! Every inch of his body is screaming I'm broken, please somebody just fix me already!

Dean hated hospitals. He vowed he'd never be in one again after witnessing his beloved father die in one. But right now, he'd give anything to be laying in a hospital bed. Hell, the nurse wouldn't even have to be hot. Just keep the drugs flowing into his system. Anything to take all this pain away.

He'd even sell his soul to the yellow-eyed demon about now if it meant this shity day could be over with. He wants a do over!

Once again Sam is opening the door for Dean, his gentle hands reaching out for his brother. "God, Dean I'm SO sorry. I was having a vision and I didn't realize it was you. Please tell me I didn't hurt you more?"

Sam sounds like he's going to cry. In fact, from the waver in his voice, Dean figures he probably already is.

"No," he rasps, "you didn't... just... help me... up." He can feel the warmth of blood pumping down the side of his face. It's actually rather soothing. His entire face is now completely numb and feels... odd. Puffy perhaps? It doesn't hurt anymore. His body is another issue. His broken arm somehow feels, even more broken, if that is even possible.

He tries to ignore the pain and the fact he's leaking blood all over his baby. She's so pissed off right now! Instead, he focuses in on a few potato chip crumbs on the passenger side floor. Dean makes a mental note to kick Sammy's ass for being so... he'll find the right word later.

He can't suppress the cry of pain as he's lifted from his... rather strange position. Sam eases him from the vehicle and places him on the dirt ground, face up.

"I'm SO sorry," Sam repeats himself.

_Are you okay? I'm SO sorry._ Sam is starting to sound like a broken record. Oh wait, Sam probably doesn't even know what a _record_ is.

"Just... stop already," Dean growls out, his head rolling to the side. His vision is a bit hazy, but he can clearly make out what looks like the grand fucking canyon inches from his body.

"Dude... you almost wrecked her... AGAIN!"

"I know, I know, Dean, I couldn't control it. I'm SO sorry!" Sam has his hands to his skull and it looks like he's ripping out two thick patches of his shaggy hair. He's also got that look. The puppy dog look that he always folds under, and he's pretty sure he does see tears glistening down his cheeks.

Thelma and Louise sounds good about now. Dean's not into chick flick movies and he sure the hell wouldn't hold Sam's hand, but driving over that cliff and ending it all would have been a _good_ thing. Right?

"Dean? Please say something, man. I'm SO sorry!"

"Brad Pitt," he moans.

Sam stops tugging at his hair and bends down over him.

Is it raining?

No.

Damn it all to hell and back.

Sam IS crying. His fresh tears are pelting him.

"I'm Brad Pitt... you are both chicks rolled into one."

What started all this? That damn bong. That's what started it. Dean makes a mental note to head back to the roadhouse and kill that evil Moby Dick wanna be.

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

"What?" Sam lets out a half laugh, half sob. He runs the back of his hand over his face, trying to conceal the down pour of tears leaking from his eyes.

"Are you crying?" Dean already knows he is.

He tries to prop himself up on his elbow. "Gaaawwwddd!" He grinds out through clenched teeth. White hot pain flares from his ribs all the way up and down his entire spine, sending massive pain throughout the rest of his body. He ignores it the best he can, forcing his protesting body to sit up. His good arm wraps protectively around his mid section. He blinks a few times, trying to gather his bearings. He licks his lips, leaving a horrible taste in his mouth when he swallows. _Blood._

He slithers his uninjured arm up and dabs at his blood soaked lips. His upper and bottom lip are split open and puffy. His fingers continue to inspect as they slide further up his face. There is blood trickling from both his nostrils. No surprise there. He did get way up close and personal with his baby's dashboard. His fingers continue to inspect, finding a huge lump on the bridge of his nose. Correction, his busted nose. "Great," he mumbles.

His fingers don't have to move any further. He knows he's got a killer knot on the back of his head along with one on the left side by his hairline where he kissed the window. He can vaguely feel the blood pumping out of the frontal head wound. Blood is saturating the entire side of his face, running down absorbing into his cotton shirt.

"Dean?"

Dean snaps out of his own physical inventory. "Huh?" He looks up at his brother, mentally kicking himself for being so selfish.

"I asked you if you were okay?"

Dean squints hard. With the mixture of the sunlight and his throbbing headache, his vision isn't exactly up to par. Sam's eyes and nose are puffy and red. The boy is barely keeping it together.

"Yeah... Sammy. I'm fine. Are you?" His eyes trail down Sam, looking for any sign of injury.

Sam sighs out loud. "YES, Dean. YOU are the one injured. You are covered in blood. We need to get you to a hospital and fast."

Dean stares at his brother a few minutes, as if he's in a daze.

"Dean?" Sam bends at the knees and gets right in his face.

Dean's eyes lock with his. "I mean, are you... okay," Dean corrects himself through eye expression. Sam is gnawing nervously on his bottom lip to the point of blood draw. The look in his eyes say it all. He's scared, he's confused, he's... lost.

"We really don't have time for that," Sam says bluntly as he zooms in on Dean's broken face. He grabs Dean lightly by the chin and eases his head back as he begins to inspect. "Your pupils are uneven, Dean. I know you have a concussion."

"Sam, stop it," Dean warns, attempting to swipe Sam's hand away. His weak attempt only manages to smear some of his own blood from his bloody fingers onto Sam's wrist.

Sam's grip becomes firmer. "I know you are in pain. You don't have to act like your not," Sam continues, wincing as he looks at the various abrasions and bruises covering Dean's face. His eyes focus up to the gash on Dean's head that is bleeding profusely. "You are bleeding out."

Dean winces, rolling his eyes. "It's a head wound, Sam. Head wounds tend to bleed... a lot."

"I'm SO sorry," Sam says, again.

Dean's face becomes distorted, not by anger, but by annoyance. He reaches up and grabs Sam's fingers, peeling them off his chin with enough force to cause Sam to wince and arch backwards.

"Dean?"

"Sammy!" He growls. "I'm FINE. Okay!"

Sam's eyes begin to instantly water again. Dean wonders how Sam got to be so damn sensitive. He sure the hell didn't get it from watching him and Dad sure the hell didn't teach him that. Their mom died when Sam was a baby so that takes her out of the equation. Right? He takes a heavy breath. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam looks at him confused. "Why are you sorry?"

They lock eyes again. "Oh you going to make me say it? I'm sorry... for being a jerk. I'm in pain. I'm irritable. I'm sore. I'm so fucking tired of this day. I'm so tired of your freaky-ass visions. I'm so fucking tired of my life. I'm sorry I acted reckless back at the roadhouse which incidently started this whole mess. I'm so sorry and I'm fucking tired of smelling like someone pissed on me. I just want a bath and a nap." He groans a little as he reaches for his busted ribs again. He looks down at the ground. This time he's talking to himself. "I'm getting old... and soft."

Sam skips the freaky-ass visions comment that would normally hurt his feelings. He chews on his lip a minute before smiling. "Okay, one, someone did piss on you and yes, you do smell fowl, and two, you've been old."

Dean leans his head up and smiles a half ass cocky grin back. "Even in my condition, I can still and will still kick your scrawny ass."

Sam continues the banter a little further. He needs this just as much as Dean. Probably more. "I'm not... scrawny... and once you turn around and see what I did to your baby, I have no doubt... in your condition... you will kick my ass."

Dean knows he's not joking now. "Sonofabitch, Sam," he curses, painfully turning to his baby. From his position on the ground, he can't see the cracked windshield or the numerous dents on the top. All he sees is a very dirty looking baby that needs a bath. "I forgive you little brother. And she will too after you give her a proper wash and wax." He turns back to his brother with a serious look on his face. "So... what did you see?"

"Dean, I," he starts to confess that if he was standing, he'd see what he did. Forget it. They really don't have time for it anyway. "I think we were in that gas station I was driving us to. Dean, once again, you died. A semi truck plowed through it and killed you." His lip is quivering as he speaks. His body becomes even tenser than before.

"So... it's like the movie Final Destination. I can't cheat death. Hell, I've cheated it twice already. My times up."

Sam's nostrils flare at Dean's comment. "Don't," he stands up, anger rising in him. "That's not funny!"

"Sam, I'm not trying to be funny. All your visions, no matter where we are, end up with me dead... except for the first one with Jo." He adds in his snarky comment. "But I blame that one on too much porn."

Sam's arm snaps out and points directly at him. "It's NOT funny! Stop it! You are NOT going to die. I'm going to fix this!" Sam's mind travels to when he couldn't fix it last time. When he tried everything he could think of. He knows deep down, their father fixed it. He was the smarter one. He found a way to save Dean. He gave up his own life, somehow. He tried not to think about it because every time he did, guilt set in. It wasn't Dean's fault their dad died. It was his. He knew when he picked up that shopping list for him that his father was up to something.

Sam was desperate. He wanted his brother back and didn't think about any consequences. He helped bring Dean back last time and his dad was dead, and Dean didn't even know it!

Sam snaps out of his thoughts to see Dean leaning heavy against the Impala. He's trying to make his way around it, staggering and leaning harder in the process.

"What are you doing, Dean!" He paces towards him, lowering his arm to show he's not physically threatening him.

"Leaving you here," Dean rasps.

Sam's in his face, his hands bracing Impala steal around Dean, blocking him from moving.

"You can't DRIVE!"

Dean knows he's right. He sinks further into his baby. Away from Sam. He's avoiding eye contact now. "Fine... you leave."

"WHAT?" Sam raises his arms up questionably. "Leave you out here to what? Die? Die because you are so fucking tired of life?"

"Sammy..."

"NO! Don't SAMMY ME! You don't have the RIGHT to call me SAMMY anymore!" Sam wants to punch something. Anything. He turns sharp and fast and settles for kicking the top of a dirt hill. It doesn't ease the tension and he finds himself wandering over to the edge of the cliff. His feet meet the very tip of it and he stares down. Mom, Jessica, Dad, and now Dean? All because of him? How many more people needed to die? Everyone he ever cared about died. Dean gave up on life because of what he did and would soon be dead too. Tears slide down his cheeks as he gathers the strength to just end it all right now.

"Sam? What are you doing?" Dean watched his brother throw his temper tantrum, kick some dirt, then head over to the ledge, where he was just standing, back turned to him, looking like he was about to take a swan dive. "SAM!" If he was even 50 percent he would have his brother by the throat. It's taking everything out of him just to hold a conversation.

"L.E.A.V.E. D.E.A.N." The words were dangerous.

How soon the tables turned. Dean just wanted to protect Sam. He wanted to get away from him. If he was going to die, he didn't want his brother around to get hurt. He didn't want Sam to die. "Sammy.. Sam... I just thought that..."

"You never do think things through, do you? Leave. You want to go, go. Make it fast. I'm done talking to you."

"Sam I just wanted to..."

"You called ME and DAD the selfish ones?" Sam turns his head, facing Dean. "Who is the selfish one now? HUH! GO WRECK YOUR FUCKING CAR AND DIE IN PEACE YOU SELFISH ASSHOLE!" Sam's head whips back around towards the cliff, shutting Dean out.

Dean stands completely shocked. Where the hell did THIS come from? He begins to stagger towards Sam, pausing several times. His body became his enemy. He has to reach Sam to stop this nonsense. " FUCCCKKK!" He cries out as he falls to his knees. "SAMMY!" He hears his own plea escape his throat. His face collides with the dirt.

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

Hope everyone that celebrated had a great Thanksgiving. Let it be known I'm full of... well a lot of things. But mostly bird right now. Never want to see another bird again.

I am going through MAJOR new episode withdrawal. Sigh.

Special thanks to MaceyAnee. You are _so_ sweet.

Moby Dick's Bong Continued...

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Sam hears his brother collapse and instantly turns away from the cliff. "Dean?"

"NO!" Dean screams as loud as he can muster.

Sam jogs over to his brother who is flat on his belly, clawing at the dirt with his good arm in a weak attempt to move forward.

"Sammm... please don't... I'm sorry..." Dean's voice is cracking. He looks and sounds like he's on the verge of losing it himself. In more ways than one. Blood is stringing from his busted face blending in with the dirt. His head is tilted sideways as he strains to move forward again.

Sam bends down in front of him. "It's okay Dean. I'm not going anywhere."

"Please don't leave... Sammy?" Dean says again, sounding even more pitiful. Sam's never heard that much desperation in Dean's voice before. He gently squeezes Dean's hand, stopping him from clawing and inflicting more bodily harm on himself. His finger nails are soiled. His fingers and forearm scuffed and bleeding.

"Come on, Dean. We are going to a hospital and that is all there is to it. I'm not going to let you die out here," Sam's gentle tone has returned. He maneuvers his body around behind Dean and helps hoist his brother up, a tiny yelp escaping his throat as his busted ribs are pulled. "Sorry... I'm sorry. It's hard to help you when just about every spot on your body is injured."

"I just," Dean begins but is stopped short when a violent coughing spell wracks his body. His coughs sound wet and deep. Sam removes one arm from under Dean's armpit, rubbing circles on his back. "It's okay. It'll pass. Just breathe, dude. Breathe deep heavy breaths."

After a few moments, the breathing exercise has stopped the coughing fit. Dean gasps out. "Just didn't want you... to get hurt because of... because of me." Dean weakly looks up at Sam. "Sam I..."

Sam smiles light and nods his head.

"Me too. I understand, but you have to understand. I don't want you dead because of me. We are brothers, Dean. You think I could live with leaving you out here to die? Or allowing you to drive off in your condition?"

Dean stares at Sam warily.

"Would you do that to me?" Sam adds.

"No," Dean whispers, his eyes down casting. "Of course not."

"All right. So don't expect me to do it, either. Come on. You are going to die out here and very soon if I don't get you to a hospital. That was the original plan and I'm now sticking to it," Sam says sternly as he begins to assist his brother back to the Impala.

It's only a few steps to the car yet Sam is practically carrying Dean. He doesn't like his brother's dead weight. It's a given just looking at Dean he's in horrible shape. He's not once protested the physical help. It's now or never. He's done trying to guide them away from his 'freaky-ass visions' as Dean called them. He knows if medical treatment isn't in Dean's near future, he's going to die and all the running was pointless.

"Front seat?" Dean questions as he's propped up against his baby, once again.

Sam looks sideways at him. "Sure thing. I need to keep an eye on you anyway. No naps just yet okay big brother?"

Dean barely nods his head forward, almost falling face first in the process.

Sam has his arms on him again. Before Dean can even mumble a thanks Sam is easing him into the front seat. "You cold? You want the blanket?"

"Na. My diaper is dry so please don't bother checking that." Dean whispers. His eyes already closing shut. Sam heads around to the driver's side door and yanks it open. Before sitting down he looks over at his brother that is slightly shivering. He has his arms around his mid section as if he's trying to stop it. Sam crawls in bent forward on his knees and reaches over the seat to the back and grabs the blanket. He wraps it around Dean comfortably, making sure he doesn't jar his broken arm in the process. "Just tell me what you need, okay? Front seat means you stay awake, remember?"

Dean unconsciously snuggles into the blanket's warmth. "I am awake," he says, his throat swallowing hard.

"With your eyes closed it's kind of hard for me to tell," Sam responds.

"Just blocking out what you did ...to her," he opens his eyes and focuses on the huge crack across the majority of the windshield.

"Oh yeah... about that. I'll get that fixed, I promise," Sam moves back to his side and sits down, easing his door shut in a futile attempt not to jar his brother's injuries any further.

Dean groans, his head lolling back onto the comfortable seat padding, eyes closing tight again.

"It's okay," Dean automatically replies, "hey Sam?"

Sam's about to start the engine. He looks over at Dean. "Yeah?"

"What if you... have another... you know... vision... while driving."

"It's a risk we'll have to take," he says without pause, revving up the Impala's engine. "Besides, that's why you are staying awake, just in case. I need your help, man." Sam knows Dean would never refuse his help. _Ever._

At that very moment Sam spies movement from the corner of his eye. He turns his head to see a semi truck traveling down the road at what appears to be excessive speed. "Son of a bitch!" He swears, feeling his heart skip a few beats in his chest. He watches the tail lights glow orange and the back of the rig swing around at an angle from the overuse of brakes.

"That's my line," Dean says in a gravely tone. His eyes still closed he's oblivious to what Sam is seeing.

"Dean, I think we have a problem Houston!"

"Don't worry, Sam, I'm awake. I've got your back," Dean says, slowing lifting his head from the seat he opens his eye and glances at Sam. Sam looks nervous and is staring off into the distance. His eyes travel to what caught his little brother's attention..

"Sonuvabitch!"

"Think that's the guy that beat the shit out of you?" Sam questions nervously.

"How the hell should I know? I was fubar, remember?" Dean tenses, sitting up straight in his seat, ignoring the pain that flares up his torso. Adrenaline immediately begins serging through his veins. It's as if he just sniffed a pound of salt. He's wide alert.

"Maybe he just wants to help us. Maybe he thinks we are having car trouble?" Sam says hopeful.

"Yeah, maybe he wants to kill me. Since when does anyone ever offer us help?" Dean says in a negative tone.

"Yeah, good point," Sam exclaims, watching the semi roll in reverse. His eyes widen once he sees the front of the semi truck. "Dean, that's the same semi truck I saw in my vision. The one that killed you at the gas station!"

"You sure?" Dean grunts, reaching for the handle of the door.

"Uh huh," Sam gulps.

"Keys, Sam. We need guns," Dean says opening the door.

Sam looks over at Dean who is getting ready to step out of the Impala. _More like fall out_. "What are you doing? We don't have time for me to carry you to the trunk!" Sam grabs the gun from his waist band and holds it up to show he's armed. "Close the door."

"We may need more," Dean protests.

"We can out run him," Sam assures him, motioning to the door with his eyes.

Dean hesitates for a brief second then slams the door closed with a slight grunt.

Sam hands the weapon over to him. "Happy?"

"Just peachy," Dean tries to grin. With trained expertise he releases the clip one handed and makes sure it's full before clipping it back into place all within the same palm. "Damn I'm good."

"What you don't trust me?" Sam looks at him with a glint of humor in his eyes.

"Trust you with my life little brother," Dean responds, "floor it Sammy."

"Hold on," Sam says pushing the accelerator down with full force. The tires skid and slide in the dirt before the Impala roars into motion. He maneuvers the steering wheel back the way they came. Away from the semi truck.

Dean clutching the gun with his good hand straightens out his busted arm to brace the dashboard. "FUCCCCCCHHHMMMEEEE," he growls out.

"SORRY," Sam yells, never looking over at him, his focus now on getting away from whoever or whatever is driving the truck.

"GAAAHUHHHHHHHH OOKKAAAYYYY," Dean's voice hitches as he pulls his arm back in. "Fucking haunted dashboard! I hate you! You are SO outta here you HEAR ME?"

Sam glances over for one second then back to the road. Dean is talking, _correction,_ yelling, at his dashboard. Makes since, first his face, now his arm. Dean's pissed and Sam doesn't doubt there will be a new dashboard in its place if they live another day.

There is two minutes of silence between the Winchester men as the Impala zooms down the road, the semi truck appearing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. Sam's now focusing on the road ahead of them.

Dean looks over his shoulder for his third and last time. Even with his new sudden burst of energy, the nauseous dizzy feeling is creeping back into his stomach from all the movement.

"Where we headed?" Dean sets the gun between the two and begins to rub gently on his lower abdomen. "Back to the Roadhouse?"

Sam's deep in thought.

"Sam?"

Sam glances quickly over to Dean then back to the road. "Uh, not sure. Hospital."

Dean squints a few times and looks over at Sam, his brother now looking fuzzy to him.

"Closest hospital was back," he says, his arm flailing around to no where in particular, "that a way." He grins inwardly that he got his finger pointing in the right direction.

"We couldn't exactly _go_ that way, Dean," Sam says a bit sharp. At least it sounds sharp to Dean.

"I do something?" Dean's confused. Sam's voice sounds **deeper** than usual. He tenses when Sam's hand squeezes his kneecap.

"Ouchhhh," he looks at him offended, sloppily trying to get the offending hand off his leg.

Sam's looks at him worried, instantly removing his hand. "No Dean, you okay? Man I had no other choice." Sam can tell by the way Dean's looking at him he's on the verge of passing out. He's slurring and when he tried to give his knee a squeeze of reassurance Dean acted like he was _attacking_ him.

Sam watches Dean's eyes roll into his head. His body becomes lax and he slithers down further into the seat, his head slumping on Sam's shoulder. "Dean?" Sam whispers, fighting the urge to stop the Impala. He knows he doesn't have enough medical knowledge to treat him and their medical kid is lacking. Instead, he eases his arm gently around Dean and pulls him in closer. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel and takes one final glance into the rearview mirror.

"I know you hate chick flick moments, but ones coming at _ya_ loud and clear," Sam laughs a fake laugh, tears already forming in his eyes. "Warning Will Robinson. Warning. _Danger Danger_." He knows Dean is totally out of it. "I can't lose you Dean. You are all I have left. I'm going to get it right this time. I have to. Dad's not here to help," tears begin to slide down his cheeks.

500500500500500

When Dean comes back to the world, he comes back to a face full of Sam's jacket, that is wadded up in a soft ball against the passenger's side glass.

He only hears bits and pieces of the one sided conversation Sam is having.

Sam had thought about all the options on his drive. First things first, as much as he didn't want to, he stopped the Impala and shifted his brother into what he hoped would be a comfortable position for him. He was way more comfortable having Dean lean on him. Even if he was unconscious and oblivious to it. It was a comfort that he longed for. A comfort that Dean used to show him when they were younger. Somewhere in their fucked up lives Dean stopped showing physical affection and Sam missed it. However, he needed to free up his other arm. After he cleaned up a few of Dean's bleeding wounds in a quick piss poor swipe, he was back on the road, dialing the Roadhouse.

Before Ellen could even give her greeting Sam was spewing out words. "Ellen! It's Sam!"

The woman could tell by the urgency in his voice something was wrong. "What is it Sam?"

"Ellen, please, I need you to be honest with me."

"Honey, what's the matter?" She held the phone tight and stepped further away from the bar patrons.

"There is this guy, he could be possessed, after us." He corrected his words. "After _Dean_." He sighed. "He's been tracking us from your bar. I have to ask you this because I had this vision..." he swallowed hard. He knew Dean wasn't happy when he told Ellen about his 'special gift'.

"Where are you? I can send help," Ellen replied.

"No. Ellen, I just need to know. Did you see anyone follow us when we left? Anyone that you know that drives a semi with a red and black front? It's a strange pattern you could never miss it..."

Ellen interrupted him. "Like a checkerboard? Fred. That's Fred's truck. None like it. I saw him peel out of here right after you boys. I just figured he woke up late seeing as he was in the bar till almost closing. I know he had a full load with a deadline."

"This... Fred? Is he close to Jo? I mean, are they, a couple?"

Ellen let out a chuckle. "Nooooo, my girl has more smarts than that. He's a big tipper. Sam, what are you getting at?"

"Ellen, I don't mean to cause any problems between you and your family... it's just... Dean's hurt bad and I'm running out of options. I had a vision of this Fred guy and Jo having sex," he left out the part about her being a ho and getting paid for it. "Then I had one of him blowing Dean's brains out at your bar and a gas station and the same truck is after us now."

_Silence..._

"Ellen? You there?"

"You know what, Sam? This isn't funny. I found that damn bong after you guys left. I should have figured John Winchester's boys were nothing but trouble."

"No, please Ellen, I'm being serious. Listen to me."

"NO, SAM, you listen to ME!" Ellen had about enough. "I know Dean was beat up when you left here but it wasn't life threatening. I heard it first hand from Jo. I run a business here and welcomed you boys into my place for nothing and I don't appreciate your accusations towards my daughter, or my clientele. You boys can laugh it up wherever the hell you are, once you come down from your little high... then we'll talk!"

"Ellen! No it's not like..."

**Click**

"Ellen?"

At the Roadhouse

"Something wrong, mama?" Jo was ease dropping the best she could while leaning against the bar, shaking her ass towards her next 'big tipper'.

Ellen slams the phone down and turns. "No baby. Just a prank call," she paces over to the bar. "What they having?"

"Four of the house special."

Ellen nodded and began to prepare the drinks. "Jo, baby, that was Sam. I'm sure he was higher than a kite but he made some comments about Dean being hurt and visions about you and Fred and," she looked down. No way her daughter would do something like that.

"What a hoot," Jo laughed. "Me and Fred?"

"Yeah, it was crazy," Ellen agreed.

"I just think Sam's jealous because Dean was SO into me," Jo giggled, taking the tray of drinks off the bar.

"Yeah." Ellen half smiled.

Ash leaned his head off the bar and frowned.

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

"Up for another round?" Ellen asks Ash without even looking over at him.

"I'm good," Ash responds, excusing himself from the barstool.

He heads back to his little room at the back of the bar and closes the door. He wastes no time picking up his phone and calling Sam's cell phone.

500500500500500

"What did you call Ellen for?" Dean asks between a slight lip smack. He has a horrible taste in his mouth.

Sam looks over in his direction. "Hey man, how you feeling?"

"I've been worse," Dean admits trying to straighten back up in his seat. Not only does his head still throb, he now has a horrible kink in his neck. "How long have I been out?" He reaches up with his good arm and feels a thick gauze taped to his head.

"About forty minutes. We are almost back to the roadhouse but from the sound of things, we are not welcome there. It appears Ellen found your beloved bong," Sam says flatly.

"Hey dude, it's not my bong. I gave it to Ash. The least he could of done was fessed up that it was his," Dean groans. "By the way, thanks for bandaging me up a bit."

"No thanks needed," Sam says, "I did a lousy job anyway." He chews on his lip for a second. "Dean, even though we are not welcome, I think we need to stop at the Roadhouse and have Ellen look at you. She may be upset but no way she would refuse helping you once she sees your condition."

"My condition?" Dean sounds a bit amused given the circumstances. "Dude, you make it sound like I'm dying which I assure you, I'm not. It's not that bad."

"Hah!" Sam lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?" He reaches up and tilts the rearview mirror towards his brother.

"It's not that bad," Dean says again trying to hide the wince as he leans forward and adjusts the mirror down a little further so he can view his own face. He lets out a funny sounding whistle from his busted cracked lips. "Damn."

"Yeah, damn. I told you you look like shit. If I didn't know you so well I'd confuse you with the Elephant Man and try to take your scary ass out," Sam says lightheartedly.

"Hey," Dean warns, poking at his swollen and busted nose. "The Elephant Man was a good guy. He was just misunderstood... sonuvabitch!" Dean pulls his hand back quickly at the pain he just inflicted on himself. "No wonder it's hard to breathe. My nose is all clogged up with dried blood."

"I got a good look at your ribs while you were passed out, Dean. I think at least two of them are cracked. I don't see how you've managed this far. I'd be in a fetal position sobbing like a baby if I was sporting the colorful bruising you are," Sam admits.

Dean grins. "I'm sure you would ya wimp." He folds the rearview mirror back a little for Sam before leaning back into the seat.

Sam ignores him and adjusts the mirror back to his liking. "Nice boot print bruises you have there too. I can say one thing, this asshole has some big fucking feet."

"We're dealing with Big Foot? I knew he wasn't just an urban legend," Dean says.

"Dean, sometimes you are just not funny," Sam responds just as his cell phone begins to ring.

"Hello," he quickly answers without noting who it is. He's hoping Ellen had a change of heart.

"Sam?"

"Ash? That you?"

"Yeah man you guys okay? How's Dean?"

"He's pretty busted up. He needs a hospital. We weren't able to head south to the closest one. We are actually a few away from you. How much further to the nearest hospital this way?" Sam's pretty sure he's not going to like the response he gets.

"Man, why couldn't you take him to Saint Mary's? Nearest this way is another three hour drive, and that's if you are doing 80," Ash says.

"Damn it," Sam swears. "Yeah well there was a big crazy ass semi in the road that way. I knew I should have floored it around him and continued south. We could have out ran him. Damn it I fucked up!"

"It's not your fault, Sammy," Dean says from the passenger seat.

Sam just shakes his head angry at himself.

"Crazy ass semi huh? I watched Fred take off after you dudes. I was hoping he wasn't stupid enough to do anything like this," Ash admits.

"You know him? Ash do you think he'd try to kill us? Do you think he's capable of doing this to Dean?"

"I don't know, man. I know he has it big for Jo. A lot of the drivers do. He's been known to start a couple fights but Ellen still keeps him around. He's one of the best paying customers and has always been good to her and Jo."

Sam's nostrils flare. "Great. Well Mr. Good Samaritan Fred is the one who beat my brother up. I just know it and now he's got some personal vendetta against him since Dean has a thing for her!"

"What? I do not," Dean defends himself, only to be rewarded with a sharp glare from Sam.

"I believe you Sam... you cool. You have to understand Ellen is a bit naive when it comes to Jo."

"So why don't you tell her?" Sam yells.

"Tell her what? Her daughter is a whore? No thanks man. I'm not bent on dying anytime soon."

"Yeah well someone needs to bend her over their knee and spank her self righteous ass," Sam growls. He remembers his vision and gets a disgusted look on his face. "You know what, scratch that. Forget I said it. I guess we'll just turn around and deal with this lunatic the only way we know how."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm hoping he gave up and continued on," Sam says ready to turn the Impala around. He sees another truck in the road in the distance.

"Cool man," Ash replies. "If you need anything you have my direct number. Don't hesitate. I'm in my room and not going anywhere." Ash picks up Moby Dick's Bong. Luckily, trash day was every two weeks in their parts and Ellen tossed it into the dumpster over several beds of bagged up cigarette buds? Or soft things... he was pretty sure she broke it into a million pieces and now it was back in his room!"

"Thanks, Ash... I may take you up on that so please... stay away from the bong _Dr. Badass_." Sam hits end call and eases the phone into his front shirt pocket.

"I wish I could," _Dr. Badass_ holds it out freaked!

"For the record I am not into Jo. She's into me," Dean says instantly. "She's so not my type."

"Save it Dean," Sam automatically replies, deep in thought.

"I'm just saying..."

"Shut up a second, please, I'm trying to concentrate," Sam snaps, his forehead creased.

"Okay," Dean lips to himself since Sam isn't even looking at him.

As they get closer to the truck blocking their path, Sam finally speaks. "Listen, Dean. I have a plan. You need a hospital. I'm not sure if hick redneck checkerboard driver is back on our tail or moved on. He's been a regular at the Roadhouse for a while and Ellen trusts him. I'm hoping he was just hopped up on speed or whatever the hell these truck drivers do these days to stay alert and keep driving. Lets hope he just kept driving in the opposite direction." Sam takes a deep breath.

"I'm listening, checkerboard, geek, chess, you know him. What else?"

"Checkers, Dean. The nearest hospital is by far in the opposite direction. Ellen isn't very happy with me right now and I don't doubt her medical skills but eventually you are going to need to seek proper medical care. We can't call the cops due to our shape shifter adventure, so I'm going to improvise right now." Sam looks over at Dean.

Dean's feeling a little light headed and sick to his stomach from concentrating on Sam's speech. More like from his injuries but he's trying to fool himself. "I see the look, Sam. What's the catch?"

"I'm going to ask this driver up here for help. We are going to leave the Impala here, just for a few minutes. I'll call Ash and have him come pick it up! He can park it behind the Roadhouse or where ever you want."

"Sammmm..."

"Dean, your health is more important than this car so please spare me just this once?" Sam begins to slow the Impala down.

Dean looks dazed out the front windshield. The cracked front windshield. "He's hogging the whole road. How do you know he'll help?" His vision is starting to tunnel. He rubs his stomach again. He thinks that if he throws up he may feel better.

"Dean, I'll talk to him. If he's willing to give us a drive to Saint Mary's hospital we won't have to worry about anything else. If this freaky Fred guy is heading our way we will be in this guy's truck and he won't think twice. It's gonna work. Just please, trust me, okay?"

Dean swallows hard. He knows he's on the verge of passing out again. "Sam... something is wrong with my head... I'm just..."

Sam fully parks the Impala and leans close to Dean. "You have a concussion Dean. I already told you this. I'm going to get us out of this okay? Don't worry. Just relax while I go talk to the guy."

"K," Dean agrees. Sam nods his head and begins to exit the Impala when a firm hand grabs his wrist. "Take the gun. I'll feel much better." The hand releases the grasp.

"Sure Dean," Sam responds looking down to see it sitting between them. He tucks it quickly back into his waistband. "Take it easy, Dean. I'll be right back."

"You better be."

"I will be."

TBC? All thoughts welcome. Bad and Good.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for the delay. This is a short one. I've been so lazy about writing lately.

No one appears to be around the truck. Sam notes the hood was open and silently hopes they weren't having mechanical problems. He cautiously taps on the glass with his knuckles.

He jumps back and almost pulls out his gun when a guy's face appears next to it. The window partially eases down. "Can I help you?"

Sam smiles friendly at the man. "Yeah. Sorry," he laughs, "you scared me."

The man eyes him up cautiously before grinning back. "I can say the same thing. Wasn't expecting some stranger to be tapping on my glass."

Sam apologizes. "Sorry. We were, my brother and I," he points over to the Impala, "just passing by. Your truck here is blocking our path. You having troubles?"

The man rolls the window down all the way and sticks his head out looking over in said direction. Dean raises his arm up and gives the man a half-ass wave. The man nods at him then turns his head back to Sam. "Was having troubles. This truck has seen better days. She just needed to cool down a bit. I must have dozed off while waiting it out."

Sam nods at the man in understanding.

"Sorry I blocked your path. Not that many vehicles take this old road. She should be ready to go," the man motions with his hand that he's stepping out and Sam steps back a couple steps.

The man looks to be in his late forties. He was a larger built man and when both his feet hit the ground Sam notes he was taller than him by a few inches. That was a first.

"Just let me close up the hood and I'll be on my way..."

"Sam," he offers, extending his hand.

The man obliges, offering his into a firm handshake. "Rusty."

Sam follows the man around to the front of the truck. "Listen Rusty, I hope I'm not imposing but I need to ask you a favor."

The man turns and looks at him weary eyed then nods his head. "What can I do for you Sam?"

"My brother, he was in an accident. I know the closest hospital is St. Mary's, are you familiar with this entire area?" Sam looks at him hopeful.

The man looks as if he's deep in thought. After a minute he finally answers. "Yes Sam. I am." He glances over at Dean again then back to Sam. "What kind of accident?"

Sam shrugs his shoulders. "It's... complicated. He was beat up by some drunk trucker back at the Roadhouse. I was going to take him to the hospital myself but this... truck driver ran us off the road then started chasing us. Not sure if he still is. Dean's car is rather conspicuous. If you could just give us a ride to the hospital. I can give you money."

So his explanation had several flaws. Like why he couldn't still drive his brother or why he couldn't get the police involved. Or how about that it sounded down right crazy? Any other day he could have came up with something better than what he just said. If his head wasn't pounding so damn much from physic vision overload. This man seemed intelligent enough and from the look on his face he wasn't buying it.

"You boys in some kind of trouble? I just came from Ellen's place. She's not the type of woman to refuse help," he continues to eye Sam up.

"No sir. He was beat up outside and I didn't want to trouble Ellen. I did call the police but they were tied up with some accident." Liar liar pants on fire. Sam always tried to be completely honest. Dean was the one that made up lies when confronting strangers. Hell, Dean lied when it wasn't even necessary. It was like a game to him. One that Sam didn't find amusing and chastised his older sibling a few times for it. Though right now, Sam felt stretching the truth was necessary. However, that didn't stop him from feeling guilty about it.

"Yeah I heard about that big accident on my CB radio," Rusty shakes his head.

"You did?" Sam sounds shocked. What were the chances?

"No," the man gives him a dirty glare.

He clears his throat. "Rusty, my brother just ran his mouth off to the wrong man. I really don't want to get the police involved with this. I'm sorry for lying to you. This crazy driver did run us off the road and we were forced to drive back this way. My brother has a concussion and some broken bones and I'm extremely worried about him. So if you don't want to help I understand. Thanks for your time." Sam's lips thin and he gives him a curt head nod. He turns to head back to the Impala when Rusty speaks up.

"I'll drop you boys off at the hospital and that's it. I'm not looking for trouble."

Sam turns back to him. "Really?"

Rusty smiles at him. "I was young once too. My ex wife had to pull my ass out of the can many times for drunken brawls."

Sam felt relief wash over him. "Thank you... thank you so much Rusty. We won't cause you any problems."

"Alright then," Rusty slams his hood closed. "Just let me tighty up the truck a bit. I'm not used to having anyone driving shotgun."

Sam takes a few steps back towards Rusty and calls out, "Let me just tell Dean what we are doing," he turns back around facing his brother just as another vision hits him.

_He's suffocating._

_He can't breathe._

_Someone has him by the neck, cutting off all air supply. The grip is tight and painful._

_More gasping._

_He's struggling to free himself but his vision is already tunneling and he's failing miserably._

_Dean is shouting his name. He can see him struggling to stay on his feet._

_A voice leans in directly behind him. "That crazy truck driver says hi. If you are lucky he'll just gut you like a fish. Your brother, on the other hand, is going to die nice... and... slow..." _

Sam snaps out of his vision. He is on his hands and knees, gasping for air. His head feels like someone is taking a hammer to it. Blood trickles out of both his nostrils. These visions are hitting him so hard and fast. They are killing him. How many has he had in the past 24 hours? At least this one wasn't of his brother dying. It was just a threat that he was going to die. _That just made it so much better._

"Sammy!" Dean is hanging onto the door of the Impala trying to steady his balance. He'll crawl to his brother if he has to. "Sammy!"

One minute he was sitting in his baby impatiently waiting for his brother to smooth talk hick driver into a ride. He was feeling sick and on the verge of puking or passing out but forced himself to remain upright in the seat. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Sam. He didn't trust anyone anymore. _Besides Sam that is._

He was mumbling apologies to his baby for what he was about to do. Abandon her, _again_. At this point he really didn't care. He just wanted a place to relax. A place where visions would stop invading Sam's mind. A place where he could lay his head down and sleep off the rest of his miserable life.

Now here he stands, watching the truck driver pace up behind his brother with a tire iron, a sinister grin on his face. His brother that can't defend himself because he's on his knees from another fucking vision.

"You stay away from him you sonovabitch!" Dean warns, taking another step forward. He wishes he had the gun. The rest were tucked away safely in the Impala's secret trunk compartment. Could this day suck anymore? To top things off... he knew he was going to pass out. His body was defying him.

"SAM LOOK OUT!" Dean shouts. The second he lets go of the Impala door he's tasting dirt.

"Dean?" Sam's still fighting off the over shock of the vision. His brother isn't making any sense. He feels like he's being punched with a vision and reality all rolled into one.

Rusty drops the tire iron behind Sam and bends down, wrapping his arm around his throat into a choke hold.

This is going to be easier than he thought it would be. The young man gasps in his grip and weakly claws at him, offering hardly any resistance. Rusty leans in. "That crazy truck driver says hi. If you are lucky he'll just gut you like a fish. Your brother, on the other hand, is going to die nice... and... slow..."

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

Moby Dick's Bong Continued...

Rusty finally releases his grip on Sam. Sam had stopped struggling a minute prior and had been lax in his choke hold. He didn't want to kill the boy he just wanted to make sure he'd be down for the count for a while. He stands tall, giving the youngest Winchester a slight shove. Sam falls slowly to the gravel road, his body limp he lands in an awkward position with his hands and arms beneath him, his buttocks slightly raised in the air. Rusty snickers and gives him a not so gently kick, forcing Sam to roll over onto his side.

His eyes immediately shift to Dean. He can see his arms stretched out over his head from where he's standing. The Impala's front wheel is blocking his view of the rest of his body. He appears to be unconscious. He bends down and picks up his trusty tire iron, just in case. He paces over to Dean and stands over him. "You awake?" He gives Dean's lower back a swift shove with his shoe, getting no response. "You don't talk to me I'll kill your brother right now."

_Nothing._

He bends down and rolls Dean over with his free hand. "Shit Fred, what did you do to the poor bastard?"

He stands back up and sets the tire iron on the hood of the Impala. Reaching into his front pant's pocket he pulls out his cell phone and begins to dial. He glances down at Dean while he waits for the person on the other end to pick up.

"It's me." There is a pause. "Yeah, Fred. I done like you asked." Another pause. "No, it wasn't no trouble at all. I thought you said you only hurt one of them?" Another pause as he glances over towards Sam. "The taller one seemed fine. I was getting ready to take him out and he just collapsed. I think there is something wrong with the fella." He glances back over to Dean. "You sure you want me to do this? He seems pretty hurt already I think you proved your point." He rolls his eyes at the phone. "No, Fred. I said I'd do it. It's not a problem. I'm not chickening out. I owed you one. Now we are even... yeah okay well I gotta go clean this mess up before someone sees me. It is still daylight." He nods his head at the phone. "I remember the plan." He hangs up and takes a heavy sigh as he shoves it roughly back into his pocket.

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Sam regains consciousness with a heavy gasp. He instantly begins coughing hard. His throat is hoarse and on fire. He's on his side surrounded by complete darkness. He begins to try to rub his throat and realizes his hands are tied behind his back. "Crap," he groans, his voice sounding just as rough as it feels. He lifts his head off the rough cold metal surface it's been resting on, instantly regretting it as it bounces hard back down.

Shit. They must have just hit a bump. From the rumbling beneath him and all the movement he's suddenly aware exactly where he is... and just exactly how much deep shit he's in. "Dean?" He slowly wiggles his restrained hands behind his back, scooting inch by inch till he's up against another cold metal wall. "Dean? Please talk to me man?" He begins to roll forward. After a few rolls he comes up empty. Now he's even more worried. "FUCK!" He curses. Why the hell would this lunatic driver snag him and not Dean? Dean was the one they wanted wasn't he? Unless... oh shit. What if these weren't just humans? What if they wanted Sam all along? His mind begins asking him five hundred questions that he just doesn't have the answers for. Maybe Dean was right. He shouldn't have shot his mouth off and told Ellen that he had 'powers'. The second other hunters knew he was not exactly normal, there was a damn good chance they'd turn on him and hunt him. Was that it?

His frantic thoughts are interrupted by a groan across the semi trailer. He'd recognize that groan anywhere. "Dean!" He finds himself grinning in the dark. Given their circumstances he shouldn't be but he's just so happy his brother is with him. He'll get them out of this. He always does.

Another low moan and Dean is retching. It sounds excruciating.

"You okay? DEAN! Where are you?"

The vomiting continues, or the dry heaves, because neither one of them has ate anything in a while and Dean had to of vomited up anything he had in his stomach earlier.

Sam begins to roll towards the direction of the horrible sounds. His head is still pounding but he's ignoring it the best he can. Finally at the very tip of the semi trailer he rolls into Dean's legs. The bastard must have took his time putting Sam all the way in the back and just hoisted his brother up and tossed him in before closing shop. Maybe help was coming and he was rushed? Sam finds himself begging Ash silently that he put that damn Moby Dick's bong down and came looking for them anyway. They could sure use a calvary.

Dean's on his hand and knees tossing his cookies and after Sam rolls into him he leans up and reaches out with a shaky hand and takes a hold of Sam's arm. "Thank God you are okay," he gasps before making a disgusting noise with his throat and spitting a few times.

So maybe he was rushed. He didn't bother tying Dean up.

"Dean? What the hell happened? I felt like I was... dunno... caught between reality and a vision. I was having one and the second I snapped out of it I was in it."

Dean eases up a second then falls back against the semi trailer door, trying to regain control of his stomach.

"Dunno Sam... you just kind of fell onto your knees into another one of your things and... I'm sorry..." he coughs a few times, wishing like hell he could manage his injuries. Sam begins to roll closer to him. "No no no..." Dean puts his hand back out and with what energy he has, maneuvers Sam to his right side into a sitting position next to him. Or at least tries to or thinks he helped, but with the little gesture Sam manages it mostly on his own

"Trust me... don't want to roll that way." Dean bites out, using his good arm to cradle his busted one. He could sure use a stiff drink about now. Where are those nurses trained to give gentle sponge baths?

"Ahhh, sorry for what?" Sam sits shoulder to shoulder with Dean, tipping his head back to relieve the throbbing.

"Passed out on ya Sam. I tried..."

"Ahh, don't blame yourself. Question is... why did he go through all the trouble to tie me up and didn't bother with you?"

Dean's quiet.

"Dean?"

"Huh? Where you saying something?"

"Dean?"

"Sorry, Sam, my head it's..."

"Sorry too," Sam grunts.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Guess...maybe he felt bad... my arms broke and all."

"Yeah, right. Or maybe he was rushed into getting on the road? We were both out of it," Sam suggests.

Dean's quiet again.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, sorry, Sammy. All my fault..."

"Dean, please, stop blaming yourself for this okay? It's nobody's fault but these sick bastards and they will pay for this. We will get out of this! We always do." Sam leans his head down to rest on Dean's.

"If I can just... rest my eyes for a while... wake me when we stop moving, K? I'll make them pay," Dean's head slumps onto Sam's shoulder. His breathing instantly begins to narrow out.

Sam begins bitting nervously on his bottom lip. "Yeah. Sure."

He listens to Dean's breathing for five minutes when the truck begins to brake. Shit. It comes to a complete halt. If Dean was awake he could fix this. But he's not.

TBC...


	11. Chapter 11

Moby Dick's Bong continued. I'm on vacation so I can move this forward now. Please let me know if you are liking. I must admit this was supposed to be funny with a touch of angst and started out that way (at least I thought so). Sorry if it turned into a bunch of angst. It goes where it wants to go.

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Sam listens closely to a door being slammed followed by feet crunching on the earth. The shuffling of foot after foot grows louder as Rusty makes his way around to the back of the truck.

"No... oh no, Dean! Man you gotta wake up!" He doesn't have time to feel bad about it. He rolls his shoulder up jostling Dean's head that is resting on it. Dean's head bounces up only to fall back limply.

"DEAN! WAKE UP!" This time he uses a little more force in his movement. A low grown escapes Dean's throat. His head sways back to clunk against the tailgate.

"That's it wake up. We're in serious trouble." Sam hears some rustling noises outside behind them and instantly the door begins to slowly slide upward, the rusty hinges creaking.

He leans forward, insuring that he doesn't fall out the back. "Dean! Lean forward. Come on you can do it!"

_No response._

With his hands restrained there is nothing he can do for his older brother. Quick thinking, he scoots around as fast as he can muster on his ass, using his lanky legs even though tied at his advantage pushing them against the door in a futile attempt to keep it from rolling any further up. Now facing Dean and feeling Rusty use more force to move the old door up, he hurriedly leans in at a weak attempt to pull him forward with his upper head and torso. His quick swipe lands him on his side with a grunt.

As soon as the door is over Dean's slumped body he's ungracefully falling back.

"NO!" Sam knew it was going to happen. He's fighting the ropes binding him but he's only successful in creating deeper gashes in his already bleeding wrists.

Rusty's hands are out catching him. "Whoa! Whoa there!" He's taken off guard at the body flying out at him. At first he thought it was one of them trying to attack him. His hands grab the first thing they can in a deathly grip, Dean's shoulder blade and busted arm. With his lower body still inside the semi bed he doesn't fall all the way out.

"Mmmmhhhhhhh," Dean's cry is muffled as his abused arm is worked over once again.

Rusty looks down at Dean then up to Sam who is now staring daggers at him. He looks back to Dean and says apologetically, "Sorry, son, wasn't expecting that." He quickly maneuvers his hands to beneath Dean's armpits and slowly drags him out of the bed. His legs hit the ground with enough force to jostle more wounds.

"Sammmy plleeazzee stoppp," Dean groans, clearly still out of it.

Rusty eases his upper body then his head down onto the ground. Dean now in a supine position. "You reek son," Rusty makes a disgusted facial expression.

Dean groans something under his breath. His head rolls to the side.

"Sorry, like I said, wasn't expecting that," Rusty repeats himself standing to a full position.

"You sick SONUVABITCH!" Sam spits in anger. "I WILLKILLYOU! LEAVEHIMALONE!" He begins to wiggle every which way in an attempt to stand upright in his bondage. With the anger serging through him and his jerky movements it looks to Rusty like he's having a seizure.

"You okay?" He knows something is wrong with the kid. He witnessed it first hand back on the road. Maybe he's epileptic or something. "You need some meds Sam?"

"No," Sam growls, his fighting growing, "I need you to leave my brother ALONE!"

"Whoa, calm down, Sam. I ain't gonna hurt ya," Rusty tries to reassure.

Sam's breathing heavy and doesn't stop fighting. "LIAR!"

Rusty scratches at his head. "LISTEN," he yells with enough authority and warning to stop Sam mid struggle. He waits for the young man to give him eye contact before he continues. "That's better," he says in a quieter tone. "Once you calm down I'm going to help you out of this bed and take you into the house. "I mean you no harm I swear it."

"Then... why... are... you?" Sam asks between pants.

"Good question, Sam," Rusty takes the couple steps between them to rest his palms at the end of the bed. "I'm just returning an old friend a favor, that's all. At first I was enthusiastic that I got the chance to finally return it... after all these years he called me up on it. But now... since I've had time to think... well I feel bad for you and your brother."

"Then why help your friend!" Sam is staring at Rusty and now notices the defeat in the man's eyes. The tiredness.

"You wouldn't understand," Rusty sighs.

"Try me," Sam hisses. "What favor does this Fred character have up on you to kill two innocent men?"

Rusty looks down at his feet shuffling them then back up to Sam. "Some other time. Some wounds just aren't meant to be sliced open again. Besides, I already told you, I ain't gonna hurt you. Once I get you boys into the house my job is done."

"Some other time? We don't HAVE time! My brother is dying! You are sentencing us to death just by bringing us here and you know it!" Sam's eyes trail down but he can't see Dean or hear him for that matter.

Rusty gives him a small smile. "We'll see, okay? Fred has it out for your brother... perhaps I can talk him into letting you go."

Sam's eyes move back up to Rusty. "Why would you do that? I have seen your face. I swear to God I will kill you myself if you or anyone else for that matter harm my brother any further!"

Rusty shakes his head sadly. "I've known Fred a long time, Sam. Your brother isn't going anywhere but under. Most likely in pieces scattered under his basement dirt floor. It's a shame you feel that way. Perhaps after a couple days you will change your mind. You just let me know when you do okay?"

Sam seethes. "I won't."

"Guess we'll find out how tight your bond is. I've been in your place you know. Loved someone so much I'd do anything for them. It smarts real bad when they defy that trust... stab you in the back and treat you like an open sore," Rusty says with a slight threatening demeanor.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Rusty looks down at Dean while he speaks. "You think this piece of shit that you call your brother would always have your back? Through thick and thin? No matter what?"

Sam shakes his head without hesitation. "I know he would."

Rusty looks back up to him. "He would? What if you found the right someone, Sam. That oh so special someone. Hmm? What if you had a lady friend that you held an even stronger bond with?"

Sam gets a look of confusion. He doesn't understand what this deranged man is getting at.

"I see your wheels turning, Sam. You seem to be a bright one. What if your brother, that loves you so much, suddenly turned on you? What if he seduced your lady friend that you had a stronger bond with? What would you do?"

"My brother wouldn't do that. What the hell kind of sick game are you playing?"

"Oh no?" Rusty smiles softly. "Well that's good for you. But would your lady friend?"

"Wha?" Sam shakes his head. Memories flooding back of when he was at Stanford. When Dean came to visit him for the first time needing help in locating their father. Correction, when Dean broke into his apartment expecting help locating their father. When Dean woke him and Jess up in the middle of the night. When Jess stumbled out half asleep in only her Smurf baby tee and her boy briefs. When Dean eyed her up like a toddler eyes up candy. When Dean made sexual remarks towards her. "No... Dean wouldn't," Sam shakes it off. Dean was just being Dean. He'd never do that to him. Jess would have never done that to him. She loved him.

What the hell kind of games is this sick hick playing? He doesn't feel any demonic vibes. As much as the visions hurt like a bitch he's ready for another one. He needs more dots connected.

_Bring it on,_ he silently wills another painful peak into the future. Hopefully this one will not be of Dean dying. Hopefully there is some light in their future. He's sick of the dark. He needs Dean to wake up.

Sam swallows hard, giving the man an answer. "No she wouldn't. She's dead."

Rusty gives him a questionable look. His mouth opens then closes. His mouth opens again, "I wasn't expecting that. You boys are full of surprises. I'm sorry to hear that. I guess we both have something in common."

Sam just glares at him.

Rusty reaches behind his back and his hand comes up with a shiny long blade.

"Wha... what are you doing?" Sam's eyes widen with fear. Not for his life, but for Dean's.

"This is the honor system Sam. I feel like we have a bond already. I'm going to cut the rope around your ankles. I'm going to do this trusting that you will step out of there and walk willingly into the house. Now I can carry you but I'd rather not. I already have to carry your brother and from the looks of him, he's no lightweight."

"And what do I get in return?"

Rusty chuckles. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. I like you. I really do." He leans forward and motions to Sam's legs. Sam extends them out cautiously.

"Once you both get good and settled, I will see to your brother. He's looking a bit dehydrated. He could use some water. I can't promise he'll keep it down and I won't promise once Fred arrives it won't be all in vain. I'll do the best I can to keep you both comfortable till he arrives."

"When will that be?" Sam nods his head as Rusty takes the knife and begins to work at the ropes.

TBC...


End file.
